PRICELESS
by ichibanseiken
Summary: On Valentine's Day, Byakuya and Renji exchange uncommon gifts.  2-part story, rated M for safety.  Yaoi.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Bleach world and characters belong to Kubo Tite_

NO ORDINARY CARD

Byakuya didn't think life could get much more awkward for Abarai-fukutaichou than it was at this moment. There he stood in his red-haired glory, shifting his weight from side to side, big hands clenching into fists, only to loosen again. 

Renji cleared his throat, nervous and tense, frustrated at his inability to just shut up.

"I'm sorry…"

"It's pretty awful, isn't it.  
"I tried my very best."

Impassive, grey eyes rose from the piece of paper held in long-fingered, tekkou-clad hands – dismay battled surprise behind the impassive mask – and finally he spoke.

"Shh, Renji."

His eyes returned to the good mulberry paper in wonder. A simple haiku was written on it with careful precision. The energy of the strokes testified to the scribe's struggle for every bit of control over the characters, the brush having been grasped too firmly in the determined hand. The script was jagged, eschewing all but the most obvious curvatures yet it did not lack a certain sense of flow. There was nothing subtle about it. Even the character for "moon" lacked the crescent-shaped flourish Byakuya liked to bestow upon its left side. Stiff…and yet, it had a certain fire of its very own.

_ Crimson_

_ Midnight hair veils perfect moon_

_ Tempting_

"Renji, what are your…feelings…?"

Abarai Renji's eyes widened in shock at the entirely unexpected question. His captain was not in the habit of ever discussing feelings. Yet the expectant silence forced Renji to reach within himself and recall the countless hours of secret calligraphy practice in the middle of sleepless nights. All that expensive calligraphy paper, desecrated with ill-proportioned characters and ink splotches and marks bearing signs of too much or too little ink on his brush – all disposed of in utmost secrecy. The words, inexpertly put together, reworked, carefully considered.

Countless biting reprimands as to the quality of his handwriting flooded his mind. And there were those utterly humiliating, awkward calligraphy lessons Kuchiki-taichou had given him in an effort to improve his hand. Not that taichou wasn't a good teacher – he was – but Renji couldn't help but feel like an utter, clumsy idiot in his presence.

"Right now I feel fucking humiliated." He felt color rise up his neck, spilling over the strong, chiseled cheek bones. "Here, give it back, taichou. I'll just toss it."

"Abarai." Byakuya's voice held only the mildest rebuke. "I like it. Forgive my curiosity – but what were you feeling when you wrote these words?" Calligraphy and mindset were intimately connected, and the artist in Byakuya detected an interesting clue.

Renji looked at him. This was their first Valentine's Day. What did he feel back then? He flushed even deeper, recalling his earlier haiku attempts which would have embarrassed Byakuya beyond measure. They were explicit and raw and full of passion, and not fit for the light of day.

Renji cleared his throat. "Well, you said you don't recognize this newfangled human holiday. And I'm good with that. I never expect anything. But I get all this stuff from other people, y'know? So I thought it would be nice to get something for you, except you have everything, so I wrote this thing. I thought it was good at the time but now it sucks." He looked at Byakuya beseechingly. "May I have it back, please?"

"No." Byakuya stood and came around his desk, stopping only a handspan away from the taller man, the poem still in his hand. Renji noted that his grey eyes hinted at warmth and curiosity.

"Please open the front of your shihakusho."

Renji eyed him, incredulity in his flushed face. "Why?"

It was the "please" that set his hands in motion and Renji loosened his top, revealing a finely muscled, tan chest accented with tribal tattoos.

Byakuya's right hand stroked the black and white layers to the side and his left lifted the poem up to Renji's chest. The office remained still for several heartbeats.

"Incredible." His voice was hushed, narrow lips quirking up.

"What?"  
"Renji. Your calligraphy. It resembles your tattoos."

The redhead gave him an incredulous grin. "Is that why you had me standing here, sweating it? I thought you hated it. I thought it totally sucked."

Sensitive fingers traced a part of the jagged pattern – with just a bit of imagination it vaguely resembled the kanji for "moon" – and with Zabimaru responsible for these designs, Byakuya flushed with a warm feeling of what it might possibly mean. He leaned forward, disregarding his own workplace rules for as long as it took for his lips to brush his fukutaichou's sensuous, red lips.

Byakuya felt a generous hand ghost up his hip and press him in as those red lips claimed him, pleasuring him, caressing the corners of his mouth with tender murmurs that meant something – something specific, important. Distracted from the kiss he strained his ears to hear the words Renji half-whispered with those deep amber eyes closed, his nostrils greedily inhaling Byakuya's scent. He allowed it, eager to hear the words….

_ "Inside…your heat so tight and wanting…surrender."_

Byakuya's eyebrows rose as he maintained contact with his mercurial lover, careful not to stem the flow of words.

_ "Cold heat…passion under icy flow…winter."_

He stirred nervously.

_ "Grey ash…embers light your gorgeous eyes…white thighs."_

He could feel his cheeks flush lightly.

_ "Sharp teeth…sharp love along the jagged line…bite marks."_

A slight whimper of a moan passed from his mouth to Renji's and blood left his upper body, leaving him somewhat light-headed.

"_Impale…your name ripped from under you…so full."_

They heard a knock on the door and flew apart from one another: Byakuya back behind his desk, Renji into the nearby kitchenette, fixing his clothes.

"Enter," Byakuya said in an even, preoccupied voice, brush in hand. He appeared the same as ever. His visitor came, talked, Byakuya nodded briefly, the visitor left papers and departed. Only after the door closed, he realized he did not remember a single word the messenger uttered.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: Bleach world and characters belong to Tite Kubo._

**GIFT OF FLASH**

The sound of paper envelopes opening ripped the stillness of the 6th division office and Kuchiki-taichou was studiously ignoring it, his own Valentine haiku from Renji put away with tender care. He sat calm and erect, brush in hand and his eyes on his work while his fukutaichou, Abarai Renji, occupied himself with the delight of opening his Valentines.

Every so often, the grey eyes slid over to Renji, stealing an unguarded moment of joy by watching the impulsive redhead's face. This human custom of exchanging notes and small gifts between lovers and friends has taken the Soul Society by a firestorm. Byakuya noted that Renji loved opening the red, white and pink notes as much as he loved giving them, and he was relieved to feel no pangs of jealousy or want within himself. The few Valentines he received, although pleasant, were superfluous. Only the ones who cared for him demonstrated their already known feelings – the others didn't matter much. Byakuya saw no need to give out Valentines. An artificial holiday, created by a Living World greeting card company to increase profits, held no interest in his eyes.

Byakuya saw Renji's arm shoot up to clear his sleeve off a pile of colorful paper and as the black fabric slid toward his elbow, the new scar appeared, still puckered and pink. Kuchiki-taichou's eyebrows tensed at the memory of Abarai's latest mishap.

_Byakuya was appraised of his fukutaichou's injuries and was about to enter the sick ward he shared with Madarame Ikkaku. The joint mission against hollows didn't go as planned. _

"_It was my fight, Renji." Ikkaku's voice was gravelly with exhaustion._

"_Had it been a duel, yeah. But when more of them started pouring out of the garganta, it was reasonable to step in."_

"_At least Yumichika knows better than to interfere."_

"_Less pride might have prevented a lot of pain." Yumichika's voice was flat, his long-standing anger and frustration held in check._

_Byakuya flared his reiatsu to announce his presence and entered the room. Renji reclined on one bed, Ikkaku was trussed up on the other with his broken leg in suspension and Yumichika sat next to him, the violet eyes neutrally blank. Byakuya detected a tendril of Yumichika's reiatsu brush itself against Renji's cheek in a silent 'thank you'. _

"_How did this happen?" Kuchiki-taichou voice reflected none of the concern he felt._

"_Ikkaku got overrun when the garganta opened and his leg got broken. I shunpoed in to get him out. Those hollows we were sent to dispatch were just bait."_

_Kuchiki-taichou looked at his lieutenant with a searching gaze. _

"_How will you avoid such injury next time?"_

"_Uh…I dunno, taichou. I happened pretty fast. Nobody could have gotten out of there without being marked. Well may be you could've, but you shunpo's… different." There was a wistful note in Abarai Renji's voice. _

The noise of tearing paper stopped in favor of the sighing, grunting, and fidgeting that always accompanied Renji's performance of his divisional paperwork duties. Morning dragged on, lunch came and went, Abarai-fukutaichou departed to lead the division in sword drills and all this time Byakuya's mind was nagged by one single concept:

Renji wasn't fast enough to escape a dangerous situation – but he thought only Byakuya could have done so. He could have escaped, because the Goddess of Flash herself taught him. The demon-cat was an annoying woman who crossed, teased and humiliated him when he was a youth but she was a great teacher.

How about asking Renji to learn the secret shunpo technique from her? No…unacceptable. He'd be forever in her debt. In fact he already was in her debt, as the shunpo technique saved his life many times.

Memories of countless temper tantrums and adrenaline surges polluted Byakuya's mind and his brush stilled, thinking back to his hair tie being stolen and him giving chase to Yoruichi-san across the rooftops of Seireitei. He hated using the techniques the former 2nd division taichou taught him – she had been the head of the covert ops and there was much more she could have taught him, had he been willing to set aside his pride.

"_Less pride might have prevented a lot of pain."_

Ayasegawa Yumichika's voice resounded in his mind and Byakuya suddenly wondered whether his stubborn refusal to use or teach Yoruichi's methods was at all comparable to the 11th division 3rd seat's stubborn refusal to accept assistance in battle. The comparison did not sit well with him.

Kuchiki Byakuya sat, his brush unmoving and his eyebrows drawn. The internal battle was fiercely waged inside him, the thoughts of necessary work distracted.

Humiliation.

Utter, mortifying public humiliation.

_Is that what Renji had felt during calligraphy lessons?_

Byakuya opened his drawer and peeked at the precious sheet of paper, the jagged, singular characters written in good proportion, with unique and individual flow he had never seen performed by anyone else. An illiterate street urchin from Rukongai tackled the rarified art of shoo, only to please him. Abarai Renji chose to overcome years of humiliation only to please him.

Byakuya's eyes closed. Where did he practice? In his room? How hard was it, penning the same characters over and over, seeing their imperfection? Did Renji realize Byakuya used up just as much paper in his pursuit of shoo?

"Taichou? Can I get anything for you?"

Renji stood in the door, his face flushed from vigorous exercise and his mahogany eyes focused on his captain's countenance. In that instant, Byakuya's resolve firmed.

"Renji. Do you have any plans for tonight?"

Abarai Renji felt a jolt of excitement run through him as he put on his gold, black-embroidered kosode. Taichou had plans for him and it was Valentine's Day. As he tied the black hairband around his head, making sure that the painted sakura blossom showed, he wondered about the places they would go and the things they would see. Better yet, they would blend in with other taichous who were treating their fukutaichous to a dinner out. Renji adjusted his clothing one last time and strolled in the direction of the Kuchiki mansion.

He was shown inside by a servant and instructed to wait on the garden porch. The trees were still asleep but the snow was mercifully gone, the moist earth only now beginning to breathe. He felt almost cool in the clothing he selected.

"Renji." He turned around, surprised to see Byakuya still in his uniform.

"Byakuya."

They sat next to one another in companionable silence.

"So what's the plan?" Renji asked, unable to contain his curiosity. His enthusiasm was infectious and Byakuya was flooded with a sudden sense of warmth. The corners of his mouth twitched up in mischief.

"The plan…Renji..." His tekkou-clad hand snagged the very same head band he had given Renji last Christmas, "the plan is for you to catch me and get your head-band back."

Faster than an eye-blink, Byakuya moved from the porch to the top of the garden wall and Renji jumped to his feet, eager to follow.

Only fifteen minutes later, Byakuya felt Renji slow down. Yes, endurance was an issue as well. Both the advanced flash technique and the capacity to sustain it would come with practice. Byakuya flashed behind his fukutaichou and pulled the hair tie out of his ponytail, swiftly moving to the rooftop across the street. His eyes feasted on the sight of the generous, red mane spilling over the gold-tone kosode.

He saw a flash of irritation in the younger man's eye. How well did he remember having felt like that!  
"Come on, Renji. At this rate you will lose more than just your accessories."

His taunt was rewarded by watching Renji's color rise and feeling his scorching-red reiatsu expand. He himself looked haughty, cool and collected as always, a study in black and while. Not may things could undo his composure – although the sight of the crimson hair spilling in the last rays of daylight came uncomfortably close.

Byakuya felt a whoosh of air and a brush of reiatsu approach and he pulled himself out of his reverie, flash-stepping to yet another rooftop, and another, being chased by his faltering fukutaichou the way he used to chase Yoruichi-san. Byakuya headed to the training grounds.

"You still have to catch me if you want your things back," he called out to Renji across the packed dirt. "I'd like to show you something that will advance that goal for you."

Renji grinned. The chase was fun in a frustrating sort of way and when he would finally catch Byakuya - for there was no doubt in his mind that he would succeed - he would extol an interest on top of the items owed. The thought of doing so warmed him to the point of making him lose focus.

"Abarai. I shall not repeat myself." Byakuya was not a patient teacher, but his mind was set and he was determined to pass on the secret techniques of the demon-cat.

"Don't just follow my reiatsu. Anticipate it. Now you can, since Gabriel helped you see energy currents. Feel not only my reiatsu and its color but the _weight_ behind it, the _intent_ to do something."

Byakuya overexaggerated his intention to move to the right and was satisfied when Renji met him at his new location.

"Good. Now I'll do a bit less of it…can you still feel it?" Exaggerating a bit less, he moved down the field. This time, Renji merely followed.

"Try again."

"Again."

"Again."

"Try with your eyes closed."  
"Better."

"Now combine the two…"

"Again."

It was way past dark when Renji sprawled on the packed dirt of the training ground, allowing his excess body heat drain into the cool earth beneath. His breathing evened out and his limbs felt so heavy they wanted to sink into the soil itself. Byakuya's eyes travelled up and down his lovely form, stopping at the bits of exposed skin, cherishing the black tattoos, the flushed lips. Someday, with enough practice, Renji will seem unaffected by several hours of exertion. Someday, he will sit seiza and calmly observe his own students sweat.

In not too long, Renji's still form stirred and Byakuya watched the younger man sit seiza opposite him. The mahogany eyes gleamed in the dark with barely contained fire as his large hand reached for his slender one. He felt Renji take it, the callused thumb rubbing gentle circles on his palm. His grey eyes warmed as Renji took his hand to his lips and kissed the hot pulse-point of his wrist.

"Thank you, Byakuya. This was the best Valentine's gift ever."

Their eyes met in sudden understanding and Byakuya felt himself melt from within. Renji – he _got it_.

He appreciated the inner battle his captain had to wage before yielding to wisdom and expedience, hesitantly surrendering to the necessity of teaching a technique which he had himself received from the demon-cat. He resolved to teach Renji everything, no matter the humiliating circumstances under which he had acquired the knowledge himself, as long as it kept his…his lovely, beloved, cherished fukutaichou out of the 4th division.

"I don't give Valentine gifts, Renji. You know that."

"I know."

"Although I thank you for yours."

"Was it hot enough for you?" Renji's voice was a hushed drawl.

Byakuya sent Renji a look through the darkness, and if he could not see the heat in the soft, grey eyes he sure could feel the longing in the caress of Byakuya's reiatsu.

"It appears you expected to go out to dinner, Abarai."

"That I did." As he said it, his stomach growled.

"Let's go and see what my kitchen prepared for us today."

They got up and Renji leaned over, sneaking a quick kiss from those soft, graceful lips.

"Can I get my favorite hairband back?" His question was serious – the hair-band was a treasured gift from the only man to whom he chose to submit.

Byakuya graced him with a rare smile.

"Of course. But you have to catch me first."


End file.
